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■' SELECTED POEMS 




I Way for Liberty 



y 



K. rOMPKlNS. 
1 6 (>i>\K Street. New York 

1874. 



Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1874, by K. Tompkins. \u the Office i>\ 
the Librarian of Congress at Washington. 



MAKE WAY FOR LIBERTY 



[On the exploit of Arnold Winkelried at the battle of Sempach, in which the Swiss, 
fighting for their independence, totally defeated the Austrians. in the fourteenth century.] 



* ' Make way for Liberty ! " — he cried ; 
Made way for Liberty, and died ! 

In arms the Austrian phalanx stood, 
A living wall, a human wood ! 
A wall, where every conscious stone 
Seemed to its kindred thousands grown ; 
A rampart all assaults to bear. 
Till time to dust their frames should wear ; 
A wood, like that enchanted grove 
In which with fiends Rinaldo strove, 
Where every silent tree possessed 
A spirit prisoned in its breast, 
Which the first stroke of coming strife 
Would startle into hideous life ; 
So dense, so still, the Austrians stood, 
A living wall, a human wood ! 
Impregnable iheir front appears, 
All horrent with projected spears, 
Whose polished points before them shine, 
From flank to flank, one brilliant line. 



Make Way for Liberty. 

Bright as the breakers' splendors run 
Along the billows to the sun. 

Opposed to these, a hovering band 
Contended for their native land : 
Peasants, whose new-found strength had broke 
From manly necks the ignoble yoke, 
And forged their fetters into swords, 
On equal terms to fight their lords. 
And what insurgent rage had gained 
In many a mortal fray maintained ; 
Marshalled once more at Freedom's call, 
They came to conquer or to fall. 
Where he who conquered, he who fell, 
Was deemed a dead, or living Tell ! 
Such virtue had that patriot breathed. 
So to the soil his soul bequeathed, 
That wheresoe'er his arrows flew 
Heroes in his own likeness grew. 
And warriors sprang from every sod 
Which his awakening footstep trod. 

And now the work of life and death 
Hung on the passing of a breath ; 
The fire of conflict burnt within. 
The battle trembled to begin ; 
Yet, while the Austrians held their ground. 
Point for attack was nowhere found, 
Where'er the impatient Switzers gazed. 
The unbroken line of lances blazed : 



Make Way for Liberty. 

That line 't were suicide to meet, 
And perish at their tyrants' feet, — 
How could they rest within their graves. 
And leave their homes the homes of slaves ? 
Would they not feel their children tread 
With clanging chains above their head ? 

It must not be : this day, this hour, 
Annihilates the oppressor's power ; 
All Switzerland is in the field. 
She will not fly, she cannot yield, — 
She must not fall ; her better fate 
Here gives her an immortal date. 
Few were the number she could boast ; 
But every freeman was a host. 
And felt as though himself were he 
On whose sole arm hung victory. 

It did depend on one indeed ; 
Behold him, — Arnold Winkelried ! 
There sounds not to the trump of fame 
The echo of a nobler name. 
Unmarked he stood amid the throng. 
In rumination deep and long, 
Till you might see, with sudden grace. 
The very thought come o'er his face, 
And by the motion of his form 
Anticipate the bursting storm. 
And by the uplifting of his brow 
Tell where the bolt would strike, and how. 



Make Way /or Lilieriy. 

But 't was no sooner thought than done, 
The field was in a moment won : — 

" Make way for Liberty ! " he cried, 
Then ran, with arms extended wide, 
As if his dearest friend to clasp ; 
Ten spears he swept within his grasp. 

'' Make way for Liberty I '' he cried ; 
Their keen points met from side to side ; 
He bowed amongst them like a tree, 
And thus made way for Liberty. 

Swift to the breach his comrades fly ; 
' Make way for Liberty ! " they cry, 
And through the ^Austrian phalanx dart. 
As rushed the spears through Arnold's heart ; 
While, instantaneous as his fall, 
Rout, ruin, panic, scattered all : 
An earthquake could not overthrow 
A city with a surer blow. 

Thus Switzerland again was free ; 
Thus death made way for Liberty ! 

— James Montgomery. 



THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT 
BRIGADE. 



Half a league, half a league, 
Half a league onward, 
All in the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 
" Forward, the Light Brigade ! 
*' Charge for the guns !" he said 
Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 

'' Forward, the Light Brigade !" 
Was there a man dismay'd ? 
Not tho' the soldier knew 

Some one had blunder'd : 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs but to do and die, 
Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them. 
Cannon in front of them 

Volley'd and thunder'd ; 
Storm'd at with shot and sheU 
Boldly they rode and well, 
Into the jaws of Death, 
Into the mouth of Hell 

Rode the six hundred. 



The Charge of the Light Brigade, 

Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
Flash'd as they turn'd in air, 
Sabring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wonder'd : 
Plunged in the battery-smoke, 
Right thro' the line they broke ; 
Cossack and Russian 
ReeFd from the sabre-stroke 

Shattered and sunder'd. 
Then they rode back, but not 

Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them. 
Cannon behind them 

Volley'd and thunder'd ; 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell. 
They that had fought so well 
Came thro' the jaws of Death 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 
All that was left of them. 

Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade ? 
O the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wonder'd. 
Honor the charge they made ! 
Honor the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred ! — A. Tennyson. 



ON THE LOSS OF THE ROYAL 
GEORGE. 



WRITTEN WHEN THE NEWS ARRIVED ; 1782, 



Toll for the brave, — 

The brave that are no more ! 
All sunk beneath the wave, 

Fast by their native shore. 

Eight hundred of the brave, 
Whose courage well was tried. 

Had made the vessel heel, 
And laid her on her side. 

A land-breeze shook the shrouds, 

And she was overset ; 
Down went the Royal George, 

With all her crew complete. 

Toll for the brave ! 

Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; 
His last sea-fight is fought. 

His work of glory done. 



On the Loss of the Royal George, 

It was not in the battle ; 

No tempest gave the shock ; 
She sprang no fatal leak ; 

She ran upon no rock. 

His sword was in its sheath ; 

His fingers held the pen, 
When Kempenfelt went down 

With twice four hundred men. 

Weigh the vessel up, 

Once dreaded by our foes ! 
And mingle with our cup 

The tear that England owes. 

Her timbers yet are sound, 

And she may float again, 
Full charged with England's thunder, 

And plough the distant main. 

But Kempenfelt is gone ; 

His victories are o'er ; 
And he and his eight hundred 

Shall plough the wave no more. 

— William Cowper, 



THE AMERICAN FLAG. 



When Freedom, from her rnountain height, 

Unfurled her standard to the air, 
She tore the azure robe of night. 

And set the stars of glory there ! 
She mingled with its gorgeous dyes 
The milky baldric of the skies. 
And striped its pure, celestial white 
With streakings of the morning light, 
Then, from his mansion in the sun, 
She called her eagle-bearer down, 
And gave into his mighty hand 
The symbol of her chosen land ! 

Majestic monarch of the cloud ! 

Who rear'st aloft thy regal form, 
To hear the tempest-trumpings loud, 
And see the lightning lances driven. 

When strive the warriors of the storm, 
And rolls the thunder-drum of heaven, — 
Child of the Sun ! to thee 't is given, 

To guard the banner of the free. 
To hover in the sulphur smoke. 
To ward away the battle-stroke. 



The American Flag. 

And bid its blendings shine afar, 
Like rainbows on the cloud of war, 
The harbingers of victory ! 

Flag of the brave ! thy folds shall fly. 
The sign of hope and triumph high ! 
When speaks the signal-trumpet tone, 
And the long line comes gleaming on ; 
Ere yet the life-blood, warm and wet, 
Has dimmed the glistening bayonet, 
Each soldier's eye shall brightly turn 
To where thy sky-born glories burn. 
And, as his springing steps advance. 
Catch war and vengeance from the glance. 
And when the cannon-mouthings loud 
Heave in wild wreaths the battle shroud, 
And gory sabres rise and fall 
Like shoots of flame on midnight's pall, 
Then shall thy meteor glances glow. 

And cowering foes shall shrink beneath 
Each gallant arm that strikes below 

That lovely messenger of death. 

Flag of the seas I on ocean wave 
Thy stars shall glitter o'er the brave ; 
When death, careering on the gale, 
Sweeps darkly round the bellied sail. 
And frighted waves rush wildly back 
Before the broadside's reeling rack. 
Each dying wanderer of the sea 



The American Flag. 

Shall look at once to heaven and thee, 
And smile to see thy splendors fly 
In triumph o'er his closing eye. 

Flag of the free heart's hope and home, 

By angel hands to valor given, 
Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, 

And all thy hues were born in heaven. 
Forever float that standard sheet ! 

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, 
With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, 

And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us ! 

— Joseph Rodman Drake. 



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